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Metropolis - New Troy iself the setting of an ugly outdoor gathering underneath the shadow of the giant storm that is rumored to be Atlantis spawned. Truth or rumor it's unknown but the threats are there and as such summits like this get called.

Who is in attendance? A lot of politicians. Leland Paige, Graydon Creed, Secretary of State Ryan Stafford and the Mayor of Metropolis Vida Fleming. Secret Service, armed personel, Metropolis police and SRD litter the grounds making sure all is safe. Security is tight. Without a press badge people don't get close but individuals like Domino don't operate from close. At least that is what is anticipated when she was hired to take out Graydon Creed.

On a perch adjacent to the ongoings by means of binoculars two other individuals watch what is transpiring, the Taskmaster and two others, a young woman and a larger man. Brother and sister, notorious criminals known as Shimmer and Mammoth.
"Not sure why you two goons were sent."
"To make sure all goes as planned. Besides, we were given orders to kill you if it doesn't."
"Yep, can't trust a traitor." The big man rumbles.
"A traitor? I never joined you. If I am betraying anyone it's HYDRA, ya fuckin' mooks."
The male holds up a fist thrusting it in to Taskmaster's nose, hovering there. "Watch it."
"Brings me back to my first comment, why were you two sent? You two share a single braincell don't you? It'll work. Not sure how, it's the prototype for the shit Strange has been getting and she woke up during… "
"Guess we wait and see then and hope it all goes the way we want it to, huh?" Shimmer taunts.

*

It's one of those 'once in a lifetime' events. A crack at Graydon Creed, in the middle of Metropolis during a state of emergency. Security must be far and wide during a moment like this. There may be drones overhead for all that Domino knows, though at a far enough range she's just another needle in a haystack. One that happens to be outfitted with surveillance-blocking armor. It should be enough against the drones.

She's also in possession of a precision rifle which costs about as much as a new car, loaded with some of the finest turned match-grade bullets ever manufactured. State of the art optics allow her to actually have an idea of what she's going to be attacking at such an extreme distance, paired with a long-range mic which lets her fish out her target by listening to his speech and following the hazy motions through the lens.

Times like this, missed shots don't count. There are no second tries.

Well, there might be a second try for someone like her but it's really best to not count on having it.

Nearly a mile away, perched on the antenna of one of the Big Apricot's many skyscrapers, perches a tin black speck of a woman with an even more tiny speck of a white face, hunkered behind a rifle mount bolted onto the exposed metal scaffolding. The wind is cold and aggressive, the antenna less than completely rigid, but backing the one in a million play she's now counting on?

Lady Luck is at the trigger.

*

"Do it now." The big man says. Too excited. "Make whatever it is happen." Almost giddy for carnage the giant is rubbing his hands together.
"Baran, shut up for once." The sister snaps out, apparently Taskmaster is not the only one finding this entire situation irritating. "Why couldn't they send someone like Batroc or even Machete… you two amateurs were hired for this weren't you?"
Shimmer shrugs and leans against the wall, "So what? And we ain't amateurs pops." Her Australian gets thicker the more she gets angry.
"Sure you're not. Look, imma press this button and Spot, wherever she is going to go… I dunno, insane? Die? Really I got no clue. I know the other tests get all hypercrazed superviolent then either just drop dead or go zombie brained. See… she got only like 70% treatment… this could be a big fluke." Taskmaster tries to explain this to them. He isn't exactly sure what the people who hired these two are expecting.
"We're just doing our job, man." The redhead girl insists.
Mammoth grabs at Taskmaster who moves, rather quickly. "Just pull the trigger you, dick."
"Whatever." Taskmaster replies and holds the small device out in his hand, a finger sliding over the screen to activate the nanites deposited months ago inside of Domino's body. The release of chemicals follows and the imbalances will begin to take hold.
Looking the small screen over he speaks, "They're active. Lets hope she doesn't just fall over dead."

*

A mental 'suggestion' is a lot easier than a 'command.' It's why hypnosis works. The subject is always in control, ultimately it's up to them whether they wish to comply with an idea which has been given to them or not. Putting someone into a trance and telling them to kill their neighbor doesn't work out like it does in the movies.

Things are a lot different with a nanite-based controller. It's like a mental interrupt, severing the link from 'command' until it feels like what Domino really wants to do. What she was going to do all along.

It isn't a seamless transition, a flinch and a sharp gasp causing the woman to turn away from the scope and rub at her forehead. It's probably just the cold wind giving her a headache. She can still do this.

She's still going to do this.

The dials are already locked in. The digital rangefinder has long since maxed out. And, just in case there's a little deviation? Exploding bullet. She could land a hit on Creed's left earlobe and it would still take his head off, with very little evidence left behind.

For several thousand people around the tower it would seem like just another thunderclap. An insignificant pinpoint flash of light most will never see so far overhead. The antenna itself feels as though it's rebounding as the shot screams across the Metropolis skyline, catching an ever-shifting current of wind as it passes around tall buildings and skywalks.

Working on autopilot, Dom cycles the bolt and returns to the trigger before the first shot even lands. It takes nearly two full seconds for the payload to reach Creed's position.

Then the second shot is taken. Not even at Graydon Creed. She's targeting the people close by. The people that might try to interfere with her kill. Anyone who's too close to her mark is subject to an exploding bullet of their own.

*

"You hea-" Mammoth only gets that much out in question of his sister and Taskmaster before the Mayor of Metropolis' head pops. Why her? Because she was hugging Graydon Creed who is now wearing a portion of the woman's brain on the side of his face. Scattered across his body like confetti is the rest of her skull, no notice is given to it as he rolls back and forth on the ground clutching his shoulder. Obviously in pain. He was close to the explosive round.
Who next? Secret Service Agent Lois Rutger, down. His body folding in on itself and toppling off the stage in to the audience ground level.
Panick now follows and the crowd begins to scream. The Secretary of State is tackled under a pile of men in suits, SRD begin to fan out as do the Metropolis PD.
"Holy shit." Shimmer murmurs as she watches the gunfire, her eyes lit up. "It worked?"
"Looks like it." Taskmaster manages after a moment, the random gunfire is convincing enough to him. He always respected Spot and never took her for the senseless killer type, that ain't her M.O. so the nanite chemical injection must be in effect. "Kudos to the badguys, yo."
"Kudos indeed. She best not shoot Mr.Paige… " Baran the Mammoth says.
Taskmaster cants his head, pretending he didnt hear that. Leland Paige. Noted.
"Shut up you oaf. Okay, job done, you're released from service Taskmaster." Shimmer grins and plants both of her hands on the floor beneath them and it begins to glow only to suddenly vanish, transforming in to poisonous gas.
The skull-faced mercenary falls.
"Mammoth, go kill him." She turns as her brother leaps past and puts her hand to her cheek, "It worked. I don't think she collected the bonus points but she did pop the Mayor's head. It was beauitiful."

*

Target down. Targets down. ..But not Creed. Had the windage been off? Did she -miss?-

Or had there been some other factor which led to Domino taking out the Mayor and not who she -thought- she had been aiming for?

Any question or concern over the matter is easily pushed aside and completely buried. The albino's seen the carnage, she's had her proverbial taste of blood. It's in the air. It's on her hands. Her work here is not yet done.

Another shell gets flicked out of the receiver, windmilling in its descent to the rooftop far below. Another round. Another target. Another stabbing pain in her head.

-Kapow!-

"Die, you fuckers," she hisses while savagely twisting the bolt back then forward, nearly pushing the rifle's mount completely out of alignment. Not far away an SRD vehicle comes into view, if they catch wind of who's up here taking the shots-

-Kapow!-

The target's beautifully led, the next round punching through the slitted armored gills surrounding the radiator then detonating within the engine block beyond.

She's running out of rounds. She doesn't care. Not enough people have died today.

The next shot deviates even further, snapping over rooftops on its way to a chopper coming into the scene. Take out their eyes, leave them blind.

No witnesses, no survivors.

(They'll never catch me.)

*

Mammoth's voice bellows up from the floor below, "I can't find him! He ain't dead. Your poison didn't work. Again." A desk goes flying up, hits the ceiling and crashes back down.
"Shit, oh well, leave it. We're out of here." A hovering vehicle draws up by her and she hops in, behind her several seconds later the giant form of Mammoth joins, "Lets go, Shimmer. Someone else can deal with the Taskmaster."
"Whatever, my poison will get him. He'll crawl away somewhere like a rat and die."

Sirens, lights, copters, the works is flooding in on the scene as the Mayor of Metropolis, Vida Flemming was just shot and killed among several other dead and a wounded Secretary of State. This is a big moment.

*

It isn't until the last round of ten leaves the chamber that Domino has a moment to clear her head, in a fashion. She can't keep going. Used all of her ludicrously expensive ammo. That's it. Two quick-release clamps are opened and the rifle is pulled from the mount, then she briskly rappels down a zipline to the rooftop and disconnects.

There's half of the job. Now to get out of here and lay low for a while. She had planned out several different escapes, all it comes down to now is timing and availability. Option D still looks open, she just has to catch a monorail. Literally, by parachuting on top of one already in motion.

A few seconds later and she's leaping off the top of the building. Opening the chute. Changing downward momentum into forward momentum. She can see the train, she just has to close the distance.